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“I know that makes the most sense,” she began. “And I hope you know I would never do anything to put my kids in danger.”
“Then you’re going to follow my advice?”
“I’m not going to actively investigate this case, but I want to let it play out for a bit, see where it goes.”
“You may not like where it goes. This person sounds manipulative and slick. I worked with the fraud division for a couple of years. It made me disgusted with my fellow human beings. The ones who committed the fraudandthe ones who, despite all the clear evidence to the contrary, refused to accept that they were being duped.”
Like me and my ex, thought Gibson, who also wondered if this was another subtle dig from her father. “I know, Dad. And if it starts to go sideways, I’ll go to the cops. I promise.”
“Just to be clear, my advice is for you to go to the copsnow.”
“Okay, okay. Hey, I got some prints that I think are Pottinger’s.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think that’s his real name. I’d like to know who he really is.”
“How are you getting them run through the system? The outfit you work for?”
“No. Just somebody I know from the old days.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to actively investigate this case?”
“Running prints is not exactlyactive.”
“Yeah, sure it isn’t.”
They said their goodbyes and Gibson slowly put down the phone.
He’s right, Mick. You need to drop this thing, right now.
But they knew where she lived. They were on her front porch.
Do I have a choice to drop it?
And then the other phone rang.
CHAPTER10
THE ROOM WAS DARK, ASshe preferred it. Light was revealing, obviously, and it also showed too much that might be true.
She used the computer audio, channeling the burner phone through it.
She never held a phone to her ear. She liked separation, a buffer. Nothing truly close to her.
She stared at the computer screen, where there were a half-dozen videos showing various places she needed to keep an eye on, including Gibson’s home.
On the screen were Post-its with helpful, encouraging notes like:You can do this. Sweat the small details and the big plan becomes a fait accompli.And the one she liked best of all:No one will ever know you.
She readied herself.
“I apologize for hanging up on you,” she said in the same measured tone and voice she had employed with Gibson from day one. That was critical.
Gibson said, “It is frustrating, especially when I’m trying to reach common ground with you.”
She had checked the record of Gibson’s phone calls from a reliable tracking source she often used. Ten minutes before, Gibson had called her parents’ number. Probably spoken with her father, the former cop, for advice in dealing with the shitstorm she was in.
There is no more privacy. Except for people like me, who pay attention.“I can understand that, Mick.”
